By Firelight
by LoveIsAzureBlue
Summary: Hermione and Ron find peace by firelight after Fred's funeral. Sweet, romantic one-shot. Please R&R! I love reviews!


Disclaimer: It all belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling.

By Firelight

_He lay upon the cold stone floor, debris all around him. Blood trickled from his mouth, which still held the ghost of a smile. His eyes gazed lifelessly above him, seeing nothing. He could not feel his brothers as they threw themselves upon his body, screaming his name. He could no longer hear the battle that raged below and had claimed his life. He couldn't hear the screams of horror, the crashes, the roaring…_

Hermione's eyes popped open as the roar of thunder died away. Her heart was beating so fast, she felt dizzy. Her eyes were wet. Hermione turned her head and looked at Ginny, wondering if she had woke her. But, Ginny slept peacefully on the bed next to hers and Hermione was grateful for that. Ginny had been sleeping even worse than she had over the past few nights.

Hermione shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her. She wiped her eyes on the corner of the blanket, took a few slow, deep breaths and felt her heartbeat slowly return to normal. She could hear the rain pouring down outside, and another distant clap of thunder. The weather was unseasonably cool. It seemed that the world had turned cold since the war ended, even though goodness had prevailed. _Even the weather is in mourning for the lost, _Hermione thought.

It was very late, or perhaps really early. Hermione couldn't tell. She only knew that she did not want to close her eyes and see Fred's face again. This was not the first time she had dreamt about him since his life was taken. _Was it only four days ago_? He had plagued her dreams every night since the final battle, had woken her up in a cold sweat with trembling hands. Hermione quietly sat up in bed and grabbed her wand, which she refused to be more than a few feet away from even now. Not wanting to abandon the warmth of the blanket, she wrapped it more tightly around herself and rose to her feet. She silently worked her feet into a pair of slippers and walked out the bedroom door.

Hermione proceeded to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The house was silent, as she expected it to be. She shuddered as she thought about the sounds of anguish that had filled the rooms earlier in the day when George, who had remained so silent through the funeral service, broke down in unrestrained sobs during the reception, falling to his knees and weeping as if he could no longer handle the physical pain of losing his twin. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as she remembered the scene that took place – Harry and Ron helping George to his feet and leading him upstairs; Mrs. Weasley collapsing in a kitchen chair, unable to stay her grief any longer while Mr. Weasley cried in his wife's hair; Hermione holding a washcloth on the back of a ghostly-pale Ginny's neck as she threw up from the agony of it all. Hermione shook her head violently, trying to erase the images. With trembling hands poured herself a cup of tea.

Hermione walked into the sitting room and used her wand to start a fire. She sat down on the sofa and sipped on her tea, watching the flames in the fire place, hoping their sight would burn away the thoughts that were tormenting her mind.

She heard him before she saw him, but knew who it was before she looked. His footsteps had become so familiar to her over the past few months – heavy and a bit clumsy. She turned her head and saw Ron walking towards the sofa. He looked exhausted and Hermione wondered if he, too, was awakened by bad dreams. Or had he slept at all?

Ron silently sat down on the sofa next to Hermione. She let her right hand out of the warmth of the blanket and grasped his. Their fingers intertwined comfortably, as it they were meant to fit together.

"Did I wake you?" Hermione whispered.

"No. I couldn't sleep. I heard Ginny's door close and I thought it might be you." Ron replied. In the distance, they heard another clap of thunder. Hermione instinctively tightened her hold on Ron's hand.

"Why are you up?" Ron asked.

"Nightmare." Hermione replied. Ron nodded his head in understanding.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, listening to the sound of the rain as it soaked the earth outside, to the distant roaring of thunder, to the sizzle of the random raindrops that made their way down the chimney onto the blazing wood below. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. In fact, this was the first time Hermione had felt really peaceful since they arrived at the Burrow four days ago. She and Ron had not spoken about the kiss they had shared during the heat of battle, nor had they shared another since they returned. It had been such a strange four days. Instead of the house ringing with the sound of jokes and laughter and joy, it was laden with grief and guilt and words spoken in whispers. It was discomforting to Hermione, who had only ever associated the Burrow with happiness. She always felt like it was some sort of impenetrable fortress - the pain of the outside world couldn't intrude on this place. Then it did.

Hermione was pulled out of her dark reverie when she felt Ron shiver next to her.

"Here." She said, unclasping his hand and readjusting the blanket so that it was encircling them both. Ron slid is arm behind Hermione's neck and she rested her head on his shoulder. His other hand grasped hers again. They watched the flames dance in the fireplace and grew warm with each other's closeness.

"Are we going to be okay Hermione?" Ron asked after a few moments, breaking the quiet. Hermione sighed. By his inflection, she could tell he didn't just mean the two of them, he also meant his family, Harry, the Wizarding world.

"Yes. It's going to take time, but yes." Hermione replied in a whisper.

"I love you, you know." Ron said. It wasn't a question. Hermione's heart thumped a little harder at the words, but she found she wasn't surprised. She did know that Ron loved her. She knew it when he called her name in his sleep after being poisoned during 6th year, knew it when he danced with her at Bill and Fleur's wedding, knew it when he told her that it was her voice in the deluminator that led him back to her, knew it when she heard him screaming her name from the depths of Malfoy Manor when she was being tortured, and she knew it especially in the way he had kissed her during the battle as the world fell to pieces around them.

Hermione smiled softly and looked at Ron. He returned her gaze.

"I know. I love you too." She said.

Ron leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. This was not the frenzied, hurried kiss they'd shared during the battle. It was slow and deep - a kiss of promise, and love, and peace.

They broke apart and Ron placed another kiss on Hermione's forehead before leaning his head against the back of the sofa. Hermione lowered her head to Ron's chest and embraced him around his waist. She could hear the slow, steady pace of his heartbeat and it comforted her.

They closed their eyes and, one by one, drifted into peaceful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
